i'm here, now living a feeling unlike my fear
by Sorde
Summary: Of all the people on the freakin' planet to tell her the truth, it's John Casey. Spoilers up to 3x17.


Of all the people on the freakin' _planet_ to tell her the truth, it ends up being John Casey.

John Casey.

They're sitting, mulling over a mission regarding some sort of stolen artifact or another (it's not as though Chuck can remember _now_), and Casey just sort of casually says something about how it's a damn good thing that Bartowski has the Intersect. Even if it is blowing up his brain.

How Casey found out about the doctor's diagnosis is beyond him. It's not as though he told anyone besides Morgan, and Morgan is... _oh. _

Casey is not a completely oblivious human being. He doesn't blush, as one would assume any human person to do, but rather does a classic Casey-grunt and casually excuses himself from the table with a completely non-sympathetic, "I've got some... electronics to sell. It's Plasma-TV Palooza."

If you didn't know him, you'd swear that he was joking.

And Sarah - breathtaking, _gorgeous, _real-girlfriend-Bracelet wearing Sarah - is glaring daggers at him from across the table.

"What the hell was Casey talking about?" she demands, and he _swears_ that he can hear a little quiver in her voice that just makes the situation all the more difficult.

"Nothing," he tries, but the word isn't even out of his mouth before she's standing.

"There is something! What aren't you telling me, Chuck?" His mouth opens again to utter a weak 'nothing' but the wrath of her gaze - mixed with a little bit of fear - cut it short. And he's left with really nothing to say.

Because, when you run out of lies, the truth is a bit harder to face.

She walks across the room, around the table and to his side, and he instinctively takes a step back - because her glare is probably more frightening than the tiger he faced a couple months ago, and he ran away from that. So this is clearly progress.

"You said you were fine," she accuses, and, from out of nowhere, she's got a spoon in her a hand (spoon?) and she's holding on to the end, jabbing at his chest as she enunciated each word.

"I am... I am fine," he manages to stutter out, and he suddenly feels as though he needs a drink _stat. _Because lying to Sarah is hard enough... he doesn't need the added bonus of seeing the hurt in her eyes.

"I can't believe this," she says. Then she walks out.

And he's so shocked he's left uninjured that it takes far too long for him to think of following her. 

...

He catches up to her hours later, after he finishes his shift at the Buy More with Casey shooting semi-apologetic glances - but mostly _you-deserved-it _shrugs - his way.

She's at the apartment, sitting on their bed, her back against the headboard. The bed has new covers, no longer an unidentifiable shade of brown. Instead, she's made a subtle change -just like all the changes she's made around the place - to a black.

In her hands is the Spy Will she handed him a few weeks earlier. That, added with the fact that she doesn't look up when he ends, gives him the impresson that he is in for some serious hell.

"This has my whole life on it," she finally says, and her voice is quiet, despite a very distinct edge to it. "If you wanted to, you could find out everything you want to know about me." When she looks up, there's something in her eyes - no, not tears. Damn her to choose this time to whip out the tears. "I gave this to you because I trust you... and you don't trust me enough to tell me that you're brain is exploding?"

"Imploding, more so," he clarifies, but her fierce glare is back and the tears are gone so he clears his throat, fidgets for a second, then sits on the very edge of the bed, as far away as possible. "Not that that's important. Look, Sarah, I know that I screwed up-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" she interrupts.

"I didn't want to... worry you."

"Cut the crap, Chuck." She chucks the will on to the bed, turns her body so that she's got her legs curled under her and facing him. "How many times have you used that line to cover a lie in the last week?" And when he doesn't say anything - mostly because he can't - she reaches out a tentative hand to rest it gently on his leg. "I just want you to be honest with me."

"The timing was never really right..."

Now he's pushing it.

"You're turning into exactly what I was worried about."

"And what's that, Sarah? The guy who doesn't want to worry his girlfriend?" he retaliates, not really because he's pissed, too, but mostly because he's getting a little panicky.

"No. A spy."

"Last I checked, you're a spy, too, Sarah." He notices that the bracelet is sitting on the nighttable next to her. He's not entirely sure how to take that.

"And I've been changing for _you._ Spies aren't supposed to have emotions." And, just like that, her face closes off. No emotions. "And spies aren't supposed to reveal themselves. To _anyone._" Her gaze flickers to the Spy Will once more.

There's a silence between them.

Finally, she sighs, and says, "I don't know how to deal with this stuff, Chuck. This... relationship stuff." She pauses, taking in a deep breath. "So please, just tell me why you've been keeping secrets."

"I..." he shrugs, looking away. "I don't _know._" But they both know that's not the true answer, so she waits, Silent Sarah once more. He looks down at his hands after a while, takes a deep breath, and mutters, barely audible, "My mom left because my dad was crazy."

And then, because he's not great with confrontation, he grabs hold of the Spy Will and looks at it, analyzing and studying.

She's Sarah Walker, so he doesn't expect much response to that. He can hear her sigh, and, after a second, she gently takes the will away from him and slips to the side of his body. He leans back, and she moves with him, his arm gently around her waist. And when he closes his eyes, she kisses his chin and entwines their fingers. It's not as articulate as her _I love you, _but it's reassuring all the same. 

And when he half-wakes up in the night, still asleep but not really, he can feel her fingers tracing his face, light as a ghost, and he thinks - although he won't remember, come morning - he can hear a soft _I won't leave. _


End file.
